Too Wicked to Keep (17 page)

“And you are?” the man questioned.

“Abigail Albertini. He has something of mine that I believe he wishes to return.”

He turned and spoke into the cuff of his jacket. After a moment, he stood back and opened the door. Unlike
the study Danny had described on the third floor, this room was a spacious parlor. Most of the furniture had been shifted near the walls and in the center of the room was an easel covered with a square of blue satin.

“Ms. Albertini,” Liebe said, toddering toward her, his gnarled hand extended politely. He was, not surprisingly, dressed in the bright cadet blues of a cavalry commander, complete with gold epaulets on the shoulders and a hat with dual crossed swords. “I have to confess I'm surprised to meet you alone.”

“I wanted to deal with our business separately,” she said. “May I?”

She gestured toward the covered painting, and after a short hesitation, he nodded his approval. She walked to the easel and drew off the shiny covering. Squinting, she lifted the easel and moved it a couple of inches back so that it got the full benefit of the light hanging above it.

“She was beautiful, wasn't she?”

“If you go for that sort of thing,” he said with a grumble.

Abby laughed. Most people weren't half as prudish as they pretended to be—she was a prime example.

“Her name was Viviana Goletti. She married my grandfather, Gianni Albertini, when she was only sixteen years old.”

“And when did she meet her lover, the artist?” he asked boldly.

Abby threw him a coy glance over her shoulder, glad he'd cut to the chase. “She was twenty-four. By all accounts, she'd tried very hard to conform to the expectations of her new family, but she was a wild child. Her mother had been a flapper. Her father a bootlegger from New York City. That's how the marriage to my grand
father was arranged—a business arrangement between rivals. But my grandfather had started phasing out the illegal side of his business. Prohibition was coming to an end and he intended to be ready for the transition. He was a smart man, my grandfather.”

“Not smart enough to keep his wife at home with her clothes on.”

She spun around and crossed her arms indignantly over her chest. “I find it fascinating that someone dealing in stolen goods can be so self-righteous and judgmental. This painting is rightfully mine and you know it.”

A short scuffle sounded outside the door, but Harris Liebe didn't seem to notice.

“And you'll have it back,” he promised. “Once your boyfriend gives me what I want.”

She smiled, liking the idea of having Danny as a
boyfriend.

“Fine,” she said, turning back to the painting and admiring the expression on the woman's face. Abby had only known her grandmother when she was in her eighties, so it wasn't hard to look at the nude young woman draped sensuously across an elegant chaise longue and see not a relative, but a woman so completely comfortable with her nudity and her sexuality. A couple of months ago, Abby might not have been able to admire the sensual representation of her high cheekbones, buoyant breasts and curved belly, hips and mons, but now, she found the whole painting stunning.

“Shall I cancel the unveiling, then?” he asked.

“No,” she said immediately. “The light in here is lovely and the party is well attended. I say it's time to allow the art lovers of Chicago to see what they've been missing.”

The man was stunned to silence, and he staggered a little when the door opened and Alejandro strode inside.

He shut the door behind him. A heartbeat later, Michael emerged from behind a drape. She swirled to find Danny, then gasped, when his gloved hand slid across the bare skin at the small of her back.

He kissed her, dipping her backward with a romantic sweep that made her sigh. She could get used to this. She could get very, very used to this.

He took off his mask, and one by one, Michael and Alejandro did the same.

Harris Liebe spluttered and moved toward the door, but Alex blocked his path. “You'll find, Captain,” Alex said with a wry glance at the old man's costume, “that you are not paying your security guards nearly enough to keep them on the job once they've received a better offer.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Well, you wanted me to give up something that was important to our family,” Danny answered. “You didn't expect me to do it behind my brother's backs, did you?”

A
PPARENTLY
,
THE OLD MAN HAD
.
A couple of months ago—hell, a couple of
days
ago—Danny would have gone to great lengths to avoid including Alejandro and Michael in anything he thought, said, did or planned. But now, even in their ridiculous matching costumes, they felt like a team.

Like brothers.

And at the same time, the weight and warmth of Abby's body pressed against his felt just as natural, perfectly suited not to the man he'd been, but to the one he wanted to become. She was so damned beautiful, inside and out, that he couldn't imagine going five minutes without touching her, much less the rest of his life.

But he'd deal with that change of plans later.

“You want to end the Murrieta-Love blood feud, so I figured I should bring all the Murrietas with me. To make it official.”

Michael and Alejandro removed their hats and masks, so Danny did the same.

“You're going to hand over the ring?” the old man questioned. “But the young lady doesn't care if I show her portrait to the world.”

“That's you?” Michael asked, his brow arched provocatively.

“It's her grandmother,” Danny said, moving his body between Michael and the revealing portrait. “Show some respect.”

Abby pulled him out of the way. “I think she's beautiful. And I'd also like to think there's a little bit of a family resemblance.”

She winked at him, and if he'd had the time, he might have kissed her again just to stop her teasing.

“Be that as it may,” Alejandro commanded, “it's become quite clear to my brothers and me that this matter between our families needs to be concluded. As our ancestor was, clearly, on the wrong side of the law, it only makes sense that we make the sacrifice.”

Alex nodded to Michael, who pulled off the glove on his right hand and revealed the emerald-centered ring with the distinctive Z-shaped scratch. With reluctant nods from both his brothers, Michael removed the ring and handed it to Liebe, who cupped it in his own gloved hand.

He wandered to a lamp, turned on the bulb and held the ring underneath. “It's beat-up, that's for sure.”

“It's had a big job, keeping the Murrieta boys out of trouble,” Danny said.

“Is that what it does?”

Danny spread his hands and shook his head. “How else do you think you'd get a guy like me to do the honorable thing here? It's certainly not in my nature. Must have been the ring's influence.”

“But you quit your job at the FBI,” Liebe said, pointing his finger at Michael.

“Only so I could dedicate myself to helping people even if it means going outside the confines of the law,”
Michael replied. “Just like Joaquin did, though I'm sure you don't believe all those stories.”

Liebe frowned. His ancestor might have only seen Joaquin Murrieta as a thug and a thief, but nearly a hundred years of legends and stories had to have played on the old man's psyche. And the costumes didn't hurt, either.

“What about you?” Harris asked Alejandro. “You had the ring for a while. What did it do for you?”

Alejandro frowned, but not with anger so much as a dose of much-needed humility. “Made me take greater risks for the right reasons. That's what our father said the ring did for him. It gave him focus and a legacy to live up to. He was not an honorable man in his youth, but once he reclaimed the ring, he embraced the sense of justice, the hunger for adventure and the desire for love that Joaquin embodied. It was a grand transformation. One you witnessed yourself, yes?”

Liebe moved away from the lamp. He turned the ring over in his hand a few times, then closed his eyes and gulped in a few steadying breaths.

“If this hunk of metal put Ramon and the three of you on the straight and narrow path, maybe it'll do the same for my grandson. This will be the end. You give me this ring, and the feud between our families will be over.”

Danny looked first to Alejandro and then to Michael. Their expressions were serious and dour, but after a moment, they each nodded.

“Then the matter is done,” Alejandro clarified.

The old man shuffled toward the door. “I'm going to give the kid a call right now and have him come on over. I'll stop paying for his schooling if he refuses to wear the thing.”

Michael walked over and clapped the man gently on the shoulder. “You just show him the women we came in with and he'll do whatever you ask.”

Alejandro and Michael helped Harris Liebe out of the room, and with a suggestive waggle of his brow, Michael closed the door behind them. Danny turned to find Abby staring at the portrait, the tip of her moist, pink tongue running softly over her bold, red lips.

“I do look like her, don't I?”

Danny slipped his hands around her middle and pressed up close behind her so that the netting holding the length of her hair scratched his chin. Naughtily, she shimmied her backside against his sex, spawning the start of an erection.

He groaned. “You are a very wicked woman.”

Her laughter rumbled beneath his hands. “I wasn't until you came into my life.”

“But you had it in you,” he said, leaning her toward the painting. “It's obviously in your blood.”

She twisted so she could look at him over her deliciously bare shoulder. “Just like being a good guy is in your blood.”

“Only because this damned thing still won't come off.”

With his teeth, Danny removed the glove from his right hand. The original Murrieta ring sparkled from his finger. Nothing short of cutting the gold was getting it off his hand, and since his brothers had had no plan to give up or do any harm to their family heirloom, they'd opted instead to keep the ring under Danny's glove while Michael surrendered an amazingly accurate replica that Alex had commissioned—and paid handsomely—to be made quickly.

Michael had suggested that the reason for the ring's
stubborn adherence to Danny's finger was because without it, Danny would never manage to stay on the straight and narrow long enough to keep Abby in his life. Alex had concurred. Neither one was swayed by Danny's relentless arguments that ring or not, Abby would be better off without him—but truth was, he didn't believe it, either. Not anymore.

He wanted to be with Abby more than he wanted any priceless piece of art. He needed to have her at his side, no matter what he had to change about himself to keep her there. To make a real relationship work with Abby, he needed all the help he could get. And if that meant keeping the ring on, he would do it—for as long as it took.

Perhaps forever.

“Were you serious about that job in Spain?” she asked.

“Why not?” he said. “Alex has an uncle running security now and he's getting up there in years. I thought it might be a gas to shore up the House of Aguilar and then maybe contract myself out to other outfits who need to stop guys like me.”

She turned around in his arms so that her nose touched the tip of his chin. He tugged her close and she melded into the curves of his body with utter perfection. He'd be lost without this woman. Totally, completely, pathetically and undeniably lost.

“Come with me,” he begged.

She looked up and flashed her fake eyelashes at him. “Come with you where?”

She was milking this. She was making him work for it. Well, he deserved it—and worse. He'd probably be paying for the rest of his life.

Lucky dog that he was.

“To Spain, first. To the ends of the universe and anywhere in between. I can't live without you, Abby. I love you. God help you, but I love every glorious inch of you.”

Sliding her hands up his cheeks, she pulled his face down and kissed him so deeply, he was certain his lips would soon be as stained red as hers. His brothers would have a grand time tormenting him about it, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything as long as he had Abby.

“I love you, Danny. I didn't before, but I do now. God help me, I do now.”

Behind him, he heard someone open the doors to the parlor and soon they were surrounded by people admiring the painting that Abby had once gone to great lengths to keep under wraps. Danny took Abby by the hand and wove through the crowd until they found a quiet corner beside the coat closet. With a girlish giggle, Abby tore open the door and tugged him inside.

“Abby, what you are doing?”

“Stealing what I want,” she said. “A moment or two alone with the man I love. Think you can handle this wicked woman you've coaxed out of hiding?”

Danny pulled them deeper into the coats and tore away the cape that threatened to strangle him around the neck. “If any guy was perfect for this job, it's me.”

“Prove it,” she challenged.

And so, while the rest of the house oohed and aahed over the recently discovered scandalous art deco nude, he did.